Crumbling
by Phoenix Phyre
Summary: Sirius/Remus, during the Dark Lord's first reign. Sirius sits alone with his paranoia and suspicion, waiting for Remus to come home. With rumors of a mole flying around the Order, Sirius finds it hard to ignore the mounting evidence against his lover.


Feeling dark and angsty. Results in this. HP, Sirimus, Dark Lord's first reign. Reviews much appreciated.

~PP

* * *

Remus should have been home by now.

Boneless on the couch Sirius sat staring with unfocused eyes at the merrily crackling flames in the grate that reflected or affected nothing of his mood.

He was tired. Dead exhausted. Strained and stretched, twisted and bent to his limits and beyond. He felt frayed at the edges, like a torn up rag doll tossed about in the street. The only stable thing in his life right now was that which his world revolved around—his beloved, his lover, his Remus.

But Remus should have been home by now.

He was only supposed to be attending a simple underground meeting with the werewolves of Albany forest. A follow up to a previous engagement. He should have been home hours ago.

Whispers chased each other around his brain, haunting, echoing whispers of suspicion and doubt, questions with no satisfactory answers, doubts he could not adequately dismiss.

Dumbledore had warned him paranoia would run extremely high, especially in a society as secret as the Order, during times as dark as these. He had urged them not to lose trust or faith in those in the Order, not to succumb to Lord Voldemort's greatest weapon—distrust and disunity.

But Sirius knew, as the whole Order knew, that there was a spy in their midst. So how could they give blind faith and credit to the Order when they knew that any or all of their secrets confided in a member could be handed straight to the Dark Lord?

Sirius felt like a gaping void in the pit of his soul that they were fighting a losing battle, that it would only be a matter of time before the Order was swallowed up by Lord Voldemort's swarming armies of darkness.

But he had Remus. Remus was the one constant in his life—aside from James, of course—that he could lean on. Though he was as worn out and frazzled as Sirius, Remus was still his patient, loving self, always there with a gentle touch or warming word, and sometimes with a steaming cup of something to soothe his battered mind. Sirius loved him dearly, so intensely it tore at his heart each time he walked out the door, knowing it might be the last time he would ever hold him in his arms.

Remus still wasn't home. A burning log crumbled, devoured by fire from the inside out.

With a mole in its structure, it would not be long until the Order collapsed. They would have to root the traitor out quickly before too many of their secrets were betrayed. The spy must be very cunning to remain hidden for so long. But who could it be? He could not imagine any of the members of the Order as a servant of Voldemort. They were all brave, strong, convicted in their faith in good.

Well, there was, of course, Snape. He could easily see Snape kneeling before the Dark Lord. But Dumbledore had absolute faith in him, for reasons Sirius could not fathom, and that Dumbledore had never cared to share.

But then, Dumbledore had told them all to trust each other with a spy in their ranks.

Voldemort was obviously not picky about whom he recruited. After spouting his pureblood nonsense, he accepted half-bloods and dark creatures into his ranks, even beings not deemed fit to properly wield magic. Giants, goblins, banshees, dementors, werewolves—

_He's a creature of the dark,_ a sinister voice whispered in his mind. No, he thought, I will not go there. I will not doubt the man I love.

And yet how many times had Remus confessed to him the fact?

"_I am a dark creature," Remus said dully, his gaze sunken. "It's no wonder they shun me. Who would want an inherently malevolent being working for them?" He looked at Sirius with tormented eyes. "Why do you trust me, Sirius?"_

Why _did_—no, _does_—he trust him? Well, that's easy, he'd proven himself a dozen times over to be trustworthy and loyal, and the greatest friend and lover a man could hope to have.

And yet… and yet…

"_Whoever it is must be far more stressed than we," Arthur chuckled half-heartedly. "Imagine having to do twice the spy work while living among your enemies. Especially now; he has to be extra-careful since he knows we're onto him."_

Well, the whole Order had been looking pretty haggard as of late, and it was hard to judge if anyone was more stressed than they should be—only Dumbledore knew exactly how much each member was taking on, and everyone coped with stress differently. Even Frank Longbottom, one of the sunniest people Sirius had ever met, was beginning to streak grey.

"_Are you alright, Moony?" Sirius cupped Remus's cheek, running his thumb over the dark shadows under his eyes. _

_Remus smiled wearily and leaned into his touch. "Just tired, love, like everyone else." He sighed. "It's been more difficult, as of late, to make any progress at all with the werewolves. Sometimes I don't have a counterargument to give. One cannot honestly fight truth. Sometimes I wonder…" He shook his head. "I don't know how to convince them to stand by the people and society that have shunned them and discriminated against them all their lives."_

It was true that working for the Order had seemed to take the greatest toll on Remus, of all of them, but that could easily be explained away by the difficulty of his work and that he still had to deal with monthly transformations. Certainly that was enough to put any man on the verge of collapse, etch lines of strain into his face, and cloud his eyes with near-constant anxiety. Wasn't it?

"_Sirius…" Peter shifted from one foot to the other like a nervous schoolboy about to rat out his best friend. "Have you noticed… Remus… acting a little… odd… lately?"_

_Sirius gazed unblinkingly at him. "What to you mean?"_

"_Well, you know…" Peter had to wind his fingers in his robes to stop them from twitching. "It must be hard on him, being the only werewolf on our side, and working so closely with his kind." He paused. "Is it really worth it? I mean, to put him through that. He isn't making much progress, is he? In fact, he hasn't turned a single werewolf to our side, has he? It must be tough, being the only werewolf on our side." He looked at Sirius earnestly. "So many dark creatures are on _his_ side, Sirius. We've only got one."_

"_Stop talking about Remus like he's a commodity, Peter. He's our friend." Sirius glowered slightly. "But what's this got to do with him acting odd?"_

"_Well, he's just seemed really _anxious_ lately, like something's really bothering him. Since about three months ago, I think. And he's been gone so often, I rarely see him anymore. He's been kind of jumpy, and rather short with me." He looked mildly put out. "I thought that you—I mean, since you live with him and all—would know if something was wrong."_

_Three months ago—about when the presence of a spy had become apparent. Sirius wasn't stupid; he could put two and two together. "Are you implying," he growled, "that Remus is the mole?"_

_Wide-eyed, Peter shook his head. "No! No, not at all! I was just worried—I didn't say—you _don't_ think he is, do you Sirius?"_

_He was so earnest Sirius wondered if he had imagined the insinuation. _Did_ he suspect that Remus was the mole? Is that why he jumped to the conclusion that Peter thought he was? "No—no, of course not. It can't be Remus."_

_Peter looked relieved. "Oh, good. I was afraid for a second—I mean, with all the dark creatures flocking to You-Know-Who and all—but if you don't think so, then he isn't. You know him best, after all."_

Yes, thought Sirius, I _do_ know him best. And the truth was, he did not know whether Remus was a spy or not. His heart protested with all its might that he was not, yet his mind could not help but see the evidence stacked against him. He _had_ started acting strangely around the time the Order had found out about the spy. He _had_ been more anxious, more stressed, more exhausted than the others. And he _hadn't_ been making any visible progress, despite working such long hours.

And _why_ wasn't he home yet?

"_I've been thinking, Padfoot," began James, holding his son around the middle as the boy tottered happily on his inexperienced legs, trying to stand on his father's knees. "What with a spy in the Order, Voldemort's bound to find out that you're our Secret Keeper. He'll likely target you."_

"_You're thinking someone else should be Secret Keeper," Sirius finished for him._

"_Yes." James looked at him, his hazel eyes clouded. "You're not angry are you? It's just that since he'll be coming after you, you shouldn't have to worry about being coerced—"_

_Sirius held up his hands. "Save your explainations, Prongs. I understand. In fact, I agree with you." While he was confident that he would never succumb to Voldemort should he be tortured for information, and proud that he was the protector of his best friends and godson, he understood the need for extra secrecy. And he couldn't deny that little part of him that was terrified that there _was_ a way Voldemort could force him to betray the Potters. "Actually, I have a suggestion for the alternative Secret Keeper."_

"_Oh?"_

"_Wormtail."_

"_Wormtail?" James's eyebrows shot up as little Harry went down when his wobbly knees gave way._

"_Yeah. Who would suspect him of being your Secret Keeper? He's so easily overlooked." _

"_That's true." James hesitated. Harry reached for his nose with a tiny, chubby hand. "I just expected you to suggest Moony. He'd hold up better than Wormtail under… if he were caught."_

"_Yes, but Moony would be the next most obvious choice after me. He's likely to be targeted. Wormtail isn't."_

"_Yes. Yes, you're right. Wormtail's a good choice." _

_Harry clambered into Sirius's lap and pulled himself to his feet again by using fistfuls of Sirius's robes._

"_We'll make the switch in secret. We can't tell anyone. Not even Dumbledore. Not even…" James was watching his son intently. Harry bounced his knees gleefully, holding handfuls of a distracted Sirius's hair._

"_Not even Remus." Sirius confirmed. Neither said anything about Remus's stretching periods of absence, or his growing quiet at meetings, or his increasingly vague reports on his work for the Order._

_Sirius jumped up suddenly, swinging his godson high into the air so that he could recall what innocence and joy sounded like._

The front door clicked open.

Sirius jerked, startled, though he'd been waiting hours for that sound. He found he couldn't bring himself to turn and look at him, so instead he feigned sleep against the back of the sofa, as if he'd dozed off while waiting for Remus to come home. He heard the familiar rustle of fabric as Remus hung up his traveling cloak, felt the weight of his footsteps as he padded out of the entryway and around to the front of the sofa. He remembered hearing those same careful steps, mindful not to wake him, night after night when Remus had come home at odd hours of the morning, after Sirius had been groping at sleep for hours in an empty bed. He remembered Remus's gentle weight sinking down onto the bed, like it was sinking into the sofa beside him now. Then he would turn toward Remus and reach for him, and Remus would meet his eyes and ask anxiously, "Did I wake you?"

Sirius opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Remus. Remus had his head back against the sofa, his eyes closed. Sirius watched him, studying the lines prematurely etching his face, the silver filigree beginning to spin itself into his hair.

Remus had always been older than the rest of them.

Remus opened his eyes, meeting his gaze. Too tired to even raise his head, he murmured, "Did I wake you?"

"No," Sirius answered simply. He thought about Dumbledore, and Arthur, and Peter, and James and Lily, and little Harry. "I'm glad you're home."

Remus smiled at him, a soft glow shining through the heavy fatigue weighing down his eyes. It was a different kind of joy than the kind that lit Harry's rosy cheeks when his godfather made him fly, but it was joy nonetheless, and it warmed and soothed Sirius like a tonic.

Remus leaned his head on Sirius's shoulder, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. Sirius could feel his pulse against him. He rested his head on top of Remus's, and sought his hand with his own, entwining their fingers between them.

To hell with suspicions and secrecy and paranoia. Sirius didn't care even if Remus was a spy. He loved him, and that was enough.


End file.
